I yearn for clarity. I long to feel at ease with my mind. This month, if i was still carrying I would be giving birth to my child. Instead, I’ve had three miscarriages and it is a daily struggle to overcome the sadness. So, I write. Hoping that within this writing process I will find clarity. I know I am not alone in these thoughts and that is somewhat comforting.

In addition to my blog and due to my roaming nature I will post pieces of my original writing on Instagram & Facebook. Of course curlymiri.wordpress.com will remain my main arena for writing. Feel free to follow me as my mind wanders in a realm of love and laughter extended to Instagram.

I was only eleven. His welcoming arms and tender embrace felt so safe. Going to the beach was our favourite pastime. We would walk hand in hand along the shore in search of pretty shells and slimy seaweed. I looked into his eyes in search of kindness and in return his beaming smile made me feel like I was loved. I guess that’s why I felt special when he would visit me in my bedroom each night.

At first, we would talk for hours then as the evenings grew colder he would lay with me beneath my covers and touch me. I was taken aback the first time he kissed me, his lips stale with the stench of cigarettes accompanied with the sweet words, “It’s okay, I love you. I just want to make you feel good.” I did not hesitate as he made me feel complete. He wanted more so he started to caress my inner thigh and in between my legs he would lay and the pleasure I felt made me feel like I belonged to him. He made me promise not to tell anyone, especially our family. Telling me that if I let anyone know about us that our bond would be broken and no other could ever love me the way he did. I believed every honeyed word that left his lips.

I yearned for his embrace each night. No one told me that what he was doing was wrong. I did not feel that being loved could ever be wrong, even if it was by my own uncle. The years passed and our relationship continued. He would bring girlfriends around to family brunch on Sunday. In my jealousy I would threaten to inform my family, but he said it was to ensure they would never think anything was going on between us. I believed every saccharine word from his mouth.

I left home to be with him when he moved to another town. I was overjoyed when I became pregnant and thought he would share in my joy. No. This moment of happiness was removed in an instant. He slapped me across my face and beat me until I could no longer bleed, leaving my baby without a heartbeat. Didn’t he love me? Didn’t he want me? Did I not give myself to this man every night for six years?

Tonight, I shall return to the deep blue of where we once walked hand in hand. No longer will I collect scattered shells or delight in his shameless paradigm of affection. I will remember the sweetness of being a child, innocent and untainted by a love that has torn the core of my being.

Sex. It was never a topic discussed in our household growing up as a child. In fact, it was a muted subject. I was introduced to the tender topic at the age of 10 in sex education. Our class watched a video of child birth and each student was given a banana and condom. I couldn’t quite get the condom on the banana so in my frustration I ate the banana instead and watched as my classmates blew up the condoms, filled them with water and laughed uncontrollably at the video.

I recall having a sleepover at my cousin’s house around age 11 and hearing boisterous noises from the room of her parent’s. “They’re having sex.” Oh, okay. Blatantly unaware of what ‘sex’ entailed.

I find my naive state of mind regarding sex at that age to be quite hilarious. Seriously, a banana is nothing like a penis. I still don’t know what to do with a condom and I would much rather eat a banana (kidding!).

My first encounter was somewhat disappointing. Laying motionless, not knowing what to do and not feeling any sense of elation. My mother always encouraged me to wait for the right man. I never quite understood until I personally discovered and appreciated the difference of making love and having sex.

He looks at me, into my eyes and the tip of his finger lingers to the small of back. His hands, tender and loving, pull me into his warmth and I yearn for more. The way he moves, so in sync with the beat of my heart makes me feel beautiful and so desired. I want nothing more but to be lost in his embrace. I look into his eyes and he smiles because he is lost in my hunger for his body and love. I smile because no other could ever make me feel this way and I am so grateful to call him mine.

His lips touched mine; bitter, wet and stale. The lingering scent of his body reminiscent of hovering flies gazing upon sweet lies. He caressed my inner thigh and looked into my eyes unafraid and unmoved by my trembling fear. I lay there motionless and naive, thinking of how much I wanted to hide in an abyss of comfort and love.

“This will make you feel good” he promised. The first time a man I trusted offered me a promise, so broken and untrue. “You will be okay” he pledged. My eyes burned with sorrow, my heart etched with pain as his undesirable intrusion entered my innocence.

This must mean that every man that glances at me has preying eyes, and a broken promise to offer my damaged soul. Is it true that my body is not a temple but rather a used shack for your pleasure? Every time I see your smile it haunts me, your repulsive touch makes me want to run and hide from your meadow of treachery. The tone of your disloyal voice makes me hate everything I am.

I trust no one because of you. I will not ever know what it is to make love. Because you raped me.

Maggie was beautiful, intelligent, and captivating of youthful innocence. Her early years were full of promise; she excelled academically and found comfort in exploring nature and embracing the solace of her backyard reading her favourite novels into the hours of twilight. She dreaded the weekends as she would have to endure sleepless nights comforting her brother as her alcoholic father fought with her mother. Saturday mornings became a routine of her mother yelling endlessly at her father accusing him of infidelity; a temper fuelled by so much resentment and suffering. Every weekend Maggie had to clear away broken furniture, cans of beer and make breakfast for her hung over father who was completely oblivious to his drunken rages.

At age eleven, Maggie’s parents left her in the care of a male relative as they went out to a night club. Maggie fell asleep on the living room couch and awoke startled as she felt the hands of the man touching her body, then his wet lips on her lips. The last image vivid in her mind was seeing him light a cigarette; she closed her eyes fighting back the tears, trying to imagine that everything was going to be alright. He stole her innocence. She told her mother who accused her of lying.

One Saturday morning, Maggie woke to find that her mother and father were nowhere in sight. No empty beer cans and absolute silence. Maggie’s father did not come home from the previous night and her mother was out searching for him. Hours passed and finally her mother barged through the front door “I just caught your dad naked in the bed of another woman”, she said in a voice full of anguish. She ordered Maggie to start packing so they could leave. Maggie looked at her brother as he sat in silence on the sofa, his eyes full of purity and pain. Her father arrived home amidst the packing, the mother grabbed Maggie’s arm and told her to get into the car. Maggie looked for her brother but her mother kept pushing her towards the car. They left. She looked back as they pulled out of the driveway and her brother was yelling out the window for her mother to stop. Maggie begged her to stop. Her mother kept driving.

At age sixteen Maggie met a guy who made her feel wanted. He professed an undying love for her. Maggie, completely naive believed every word he said. She skipped classes, started smoking weed, lied to her parents, lied to herself and began an unhealthy relationship with a guy she barely knew. As Maggie’s world spiralled out of control her parent’s marriage was on the road to recovery. Her father sought help through the church and he gave up drinking. The family moved into a beautiful home in the suburbs. Maggie’s parents became livid when they found out she was failing school. Maggie’s mother beat her and sent her away to another country for three months.

Maggie returned home and completed her last year of high school, she met a guy in her science class, a Mormon who made her laugh. This guy upheld the Christian values that she believed would give her the escape she craved for. He e-mailed Maggie daily quotes of inspiration, wrote her love letters, sang to her on the phone, surprised her with flowers and Oreos, and even won over the approval of her parents. One evening, Maggie was home alone and invited him over. They listened to Babyface and Maxwell, he kissed her and their teenage hormones clouded their judgement. He lay above her and asked if she wanted to make love, she said no. He stopped, put his clothes back on and apologised for getting carried away. The next day he told Maggie that the only way he could continue a relationship with her was if she converted to his religion, she refused and he became distant. Thereafter, it seemed every moment they spent together was of a physically intimate nature. She broke up with him at the end of the high school year. Her mother blamed her for ruining such a ‘good’ relationship.

At age twenty one, Maggie formed a relationship again with the guy she met at age sixteen. He had moved to Australia. She lied to her family including the brother she loved and who today is the only person who has never hurt her, telling them that she would go to Australia for her 21st birthday to visit family. She went to Australia with the intention of being with this man and to never return home again. Maggie saw this as an escape from the painful past she endured. She flew to Australia and within a month she married this man. From the beginning she could sense that he was an angry man, and each day she had to tread carefully to avoid his fury. The first time they were intimate it was far from the concept of making love. He was rough and enforced his bizarre sexual fantasies upon her. The only time he ever touched her was to satisfy his sexual needs. He made her feel worthless, and she fell into an empty and aching abyss.

She called her mother seeking comfort however her mother full of rage yelled at her, “I forbid you to stay with that man, I’ll never accept your relationship and I swear you will never have children. Your marriage is a joke.” The abuse in her marriage escalated, and she fell pregnant. She flew back home, knowing that she could not raise her child in an unloving environment. The first day back home she had a miscarriage. A month later her husband flew in from Australia to be with her. She stayed with him despite his unfaithfulness, and she endured his physical abuse and his unhealthy obsession with porn. Maggie wanted to prove to her parents that she was happy, that she made the right choice in marrying this man. She lived such an empty facade, being the obedient wife, the breadwinner, the used and abused. He would leave her at home alone while he spent entire weekends away. She knew he was out with other women but she couldn’t muster the strength to fight with him. She never yelled at him as her mother had done with her father. She no longer cared about his infidelity, as she preferred that he go and be unfaithful, rather than stay at home and touch or abuse her. Maggie just let him go as he pleased. She became accustomed to nights of having dinner by herself. Alone. This is the life she chose.

They stayed unhappily married for four years. She had a conversation with two of her dear friends who begged her to leave him. Maggie texted her husband saying she no longer wanted to be with him. He text back, “Ok”. She arrived home later that day to see him with another woman, packing his belongings. Three months later his new girlfriend was pregnant and they were engaged. Maggie, battered and torn wondered what she had done to deserve such misery. Her two best friends also left the country leaving Maggie feeling abandoned and searching for purpose.

Maggie envisioned a man who would love and embrace her for who she was. A man who would wake next to her with a smile on his face, that would make her laugh and fill her life with unconditional love. She craved a sense of belonging, a loving touch, a place she could call home and share with another who would just simply be home for dinner. It happened. Maggie fell in love with a wonderful man. He made her laugh and treated her with so much respect. He made her feel beautiful, and for the first time in her life she felt safe and loved. Every weekend they would go out and enjoy the company of mutual friends. He danced with her and gave her all the loving attention she needed. People would often comment on how they could see and feel that they were in love. Maggie dwelled within his love. He promised to love her and take care of her and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. His love allowed her to embrace life and enabled her to return to her love of nature.

It seemed Maggie’s life encompassed all that she desired. However, this was short lived. He lied to her. He didn’t look at her the way he used to or compliment her grace and beauty. He didn’t take her out in the weekend. He left her at home as he went out until the early hours of the morning. And, he no longer danced with her. Consumed with a sense of failure, loss of self and no longer having the capacity to cry anymore lonely tears, Maggie ended her life. Alone. All she ever wanted was to be loved.